


The breaking of the Fellowship (part one)

by imsfire



Series: Fragments of the tale of the Ring [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bodhi is in the Sam role & Luke is Frodo in this AU, Gen, a parting of ways, brief mention for, other R1 and LOTR characters but this is Bodhi & Luke-centric, warning for near-drowning experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: As orcs attack the surviving members of the Fellowship of the Ring in the woods above Rauros, Luke Skywalker slips away.  Only Bodhi realises what is happening.Another snippet from my fragmentary LOTR + Rogue One fusion/AU.





	The breaking of the Fellowship (part one)

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this little bit of an unfinished longer chapter, in honour of the last day of Bodhi Week for Celebrate Rogue One 2019: Theme, Bodhi & "alone".

The horn calls and the noise of fighting carried through the trees to Bodhi, and he trembled at the sound.  Ever since Moria he’d been promising himself that he’d be braver next time.  But his heart quailed at the howling that echoed down the hillside.

_The orcs, the orcs have found us!_

The orcs had found them, and they would capture Luke, they would capture the Ring and kill everybody, and it would all of it have been in vain.

His hands sweated.  Heavens, he didn’t even have a knife, only the bundle of firewood he’d been gathering (and _Fool of a Rook_ , his thoughts chided, _how did you not notice when Luke slipped away?)._

The short sword, still so unfamiliar in his hand, and his butcher knife and pots and pans, all the things he could conceive of using as weapons; all were back at the campsite beside the river.  He was unarmed and alone, and he had no idea where Luke was.

_I made a promise.  I won’t leave you, I said.  But I have, I have; I’ve failed already._

The lighter and more brilliant of the two horn calls was familiar; Cassian’s hunting horn, that he’d used to signal to them in the mountains and in the Mines of Moria.  The other was a deeper, stronger sound, grand and lordly, though desperate in the force with which it was blown.  It must be the newcomer, Cassian’s brother.  Boromir. 

_Such a strange, hard-faced man.  I didn’t like the way he looked at us._

But both of them were fighting now, and it was inconceivable that men of Gondor would not be on the same side against the Enemy’s orcs.

The wind took the sound and flung it away, and brought it back, so that the din of battle seemed to veer all around Bodhi as he stood frightened and confused amid the trees.  Clash of weapons, cries of aggression and pain, even the thrum of bowstrings. 

Cassian and Kay had run that way, going after Arwen and Jyn.  And all of them were up there in the woods fighting now, to defend Luke and his mission. 

With a sinking heart Bodhi knew he’d be useless in the fight.  But worse than useless was to stand here listening, trapped in this nausea of doubt and fear.   Where was Luke?  And where were Chirrut and Baze?  Supposing the orcs had attacked them all?

He dropped the firewood abruptly and set off downhill, running as fast as his legs would carry him for the riverbank and his limited choice of weapons.

 _The big knife_ , he thought.  _And the skillet.  I could hurt someone with that, if I swung out good and hard and didn’t panic._

There was little likelihood of being any help at all to his friends.  But for all he was just a market gardener, not tall even for a hobbit, and by no means brave at all, he must still do his best.

The sloping ground seemed to tip away in front of him and he stumbled, zigzagging between the trees and trying not to fall.  _Not even a good runner, are you, Bodhi?_

_But I have to do something._

His breath was sawing in his throat as he hit the level ground at last and staggered out of the edge of the woods.  The strand where they’d pulled their boats out of the water was empty, a campfire half-built on the foreshore and the three grey vessels beached in the lee of the rocks.  His pack was still aboard the one he’d shared with Luke and Jyn.  He rocketed towards it, his feet crunching in the shingle.  Where was it?

Where was it indeed?  There were only two boats beached in the shade.  And the missing one was –

A hundred yards away, out in mid-river.

It wasn’t drifting.  It was being rowed, albeit rather clumsily, by a pair of oars that bobbed and swung in mid-air, held by no visible hand.

“Oh, you _wouldn’t!”_ Bodhi said aloud.  He wished he might disbelieve his eyes, but their evidence was all too clear.  He knew, suddenly, exactly what was happening. “Oh no, oh no, no, no you don’t!”

He’d passed the last two days’ travel looking out at the river with a dubious eye, uncomfortably aware of the thinness of the planks that were the only things between him and drowning.  Now he ran forward and without a thought began to wade out into the water.  It was sluggish near the shore, and the bottom though muddy underfoot was sound enough, so that he could quite easily splash his way to knee deep and then thigh-deep.  His breeches quickly got wet, and soon the tails of his shirt and waistcoat were soaked as well.  He waved his arms over his head and shouted “Hey, hey, wait!”

The invisible rower carried on regardless.  Bodhi knew enough about how boats were rowed to be pretty sure Luke was facing him. 

“Luke!” he called. “Luke, wait for me!”

The oars hesitated in their awkward rhythm, clattering in the rowlocks. “Go back, Bodhi,” came Luke’s voice, breathless but entirely resolute. “I’m going to Mordor!”

“Of course you are!” Bodhi shouted back.  He waded deeper, as fast as he could.

The pair of oars rattled again and resumed their work, and the little boat began once more to pull away, out into the current.

“Come back!” Bodhi cried.  He was waist-deep, chest-deep, every stitch he had on was soaking now and the riverbed was no longer friendly mud and pebbles but large boulders slippery with weed.  The water pressed on him, it tangled in his legs and tugged his cloak, strong as a gale, so that he had to flap his arms to keep his balance. “Come back, don’t go without me!  Don’t go without your Bodhi!”

He couldn’t bear it, he just couldn’t.  He struggled on into the deep water.  Then suddenly the riverbed dropped away from beneath him, and left him at the mercy of the current.  It was swift and unfeeling, and heavy as a giant’s hand must be, and he barely had time to shout “Luke!” once more before his head went under.

 

In the seemingly-empty boat an anguished voice exclaimed “Bodhi!” and the oars heaved themselves out of the water altogether.  They jolted about in the air, hauling themselves inboard with a great din. “Bodhi, no!” The whole boat was rocking wildly, pitching to starboard and to port and then back again, as though someone were trying to peer over both sides.

“Oh Bodhi,” cried the unhappy voice; and with a strange flicker of light, the figure of Luke appeared again.  He stuffed the ring back in his pocket, exclaiming again “Oh, Bodhi, Bodhi, no!  You loving fool, where are you?”

As if summoned by his voice, a spluttering head broke the surface some yards downstream, gave a squawk of alarm and sank again.

“No, no, no!” cried Luke.  Wildly he swung the oars back into the water and heaved for the spot where Bodhi had gone under.

 

To Bodhi, sinking wide-eyed and astonished into the mistiness underwater, it was as if the light from above suddenly dimmed, as a huge floating shape, big as a thundercloud, passed across the brightness overhead.  A pale arm thrust down from it and Luke’s hand was there, reaching out, grabbing at his swirling hair.  He yelped, swallowing water, and grabbed back, with his sight already going dark.   

Luke pulled hard and caught his hand in both his own, and hauled him to the surface again.  Floundering, choking and coughing up river water, he clawed onto the side of the little grey elven boat and dragged himself back, into the good clear air.

Between the two of them, with much splashing and struggling, they hauled him aboard, and he lay for a moment panting in the bilges, before he felt strong enough to sit up.

He half-expected Luke to chide him, but instead he fell on his neck, crying with relief. “I thought I’d lost you!  Bodhi, you dear fool!”

It would be really quite rude to reply _But it was you who was leaving me_ , now with Luke so moved and so shaken.  So Bodhi coughed and sucked in air, and hugged him back as tight as he could.

Finally he let go, still panting, and raked his dripping hair out of his face.  “I know what you were trying to do,” he gasped before Luke could speak.

“Oh, my dear friend, you don’t understand.  I have to go – I have to do this!” Luke’s blue eyes were full of sorrow. “I’m going to Mordor alone, Bodhi.”

“Course you are,” Bodhi said “And I’m going with you!”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, it's tricky trying to catch the cadence of speech in Tolkien, as his characters speak, and especially address one another, in a very particular and precise way. I hope Luke doesn't sound too OOC for having this vaguely Edwardian-gentleman voice imposed on him!  
> Please note that in this AU Luke/Frodo and Bodhi/Sam are NOT master and servant but inseparable friends; this is also the one context where I don't ship them, although normally I like the idea of Bodhi/Luke very much. But I don't ship Frodo and Sam at all, so it feels all wrong to ship the characters standing in their stead here.


End file.
